


but i tore down my walls (and opened my doors)

by writing_addict



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Winry Rockbell, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Edward Elric Swears, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Multi, No Smut, One Shot, Past Child Abuse, Post-Promised Day, Romance, Scars, Sharing a Bed, THREE OF THEM!!!, and everyone else has to deal with it, and i just wanna see them being domestic and cute, and sad. also sad, because literally all the content for these three is smut, for that one fma writing server (y'all know who you are), forever salty about ling's ending, ling yao needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:26:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26378011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_addict/pseuds/writing_addict
Summary: Her fingertips graze twisting scar tissue, and she opens her eyes, furrowing her brow in confusion. It’s reminiscent of the scars on Ed’s right shoulder and stomach, but not in the right place—and it’s onLing.She ignores the soft sound of their bickering over her, gaze flicking over Ling’s bare torso. Over raised, white scars along his back in slashes and uneven rows, and marks that looks like Lichtenburg figures on his shoulders—slashes on his palms that she had assumed were callouses. Some of them she recognizes from when he’d been determined to learn to cook, nicking his fingers on kitchen knives, but the rest…they aren’t new. Not by a long shot. And there’s somany…Or:Four years after the Promised Day, Winry, Ed and Ling find themselves living together in the Rockbell house--and they're, well,together. It's a beautiful rainy day, perfect for a lazy evening cuddling, but, well...Something goes wrong. Something always goes wrong. But they'll put each other back together again, just like before.And they'll never let go of each other again.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell/Ling Yao
Comments: 16
Kudos: 62





	but i tore down my walls (and opened my doors)

**Author's Note:**

> written for the fma writing discord after we screamed for like 2 hours straight about these three. take it. eat it. enjoy it. cry a little, bc i did writing it--and to everyone outside of the server, enjoy! i hope you fall in love with this trio as much as i have <3

It’s hard enough, Winry knows, for Ed to open his heart to one person. For him to give his heart to two is nothing short of a miracle. She just never expected she’d fall in love with that second person either, or that he’d fall for her, that the three of them would be together. Intertwined, like an endless song, without beginning or middle or end. Safe, and happy, and together. Her and Ed and Ling, far away from anything that could ever hurt them. Anything that should ever be _able_ to hurt them.

She’s learning, though, that Ling’s heart is even more guarded than Ed’s, that the smile he keeps on his face is a front for a sort of fear that runs bone-deep. That for all their banter and friendly teasing on that train ride so long ago, he’s _shy,_ and gentle, and gets excited over the smallest things. The more he opens up, little by little, the less she sees of the prince and the more she sees of _Ling Yao—_ and the more she sees of him, the more she falls, just a little bit deeper and further with every soft, hesitant smile or shy brush of his fingertips against hers.

It’s waking up with the two of them wrapped around her, their breathing soft and even and somehow synchronized. It’s walking down the stairs after pulling an all-nighter to find breakfast waiting and a kiss pressed to her cheek. It’s walking through the farmer’s market and hearing Ling’s fascinated little murmurs and Ed’s teasing laughter and knowing that they’re hers and she’s theirs. It’s holding their hands, one slender and calloused and bronze, the other golden and broad and scarred, dancing around the living room with them to silly songs on the radio. It’s Ling’s giggling when he listens to her and Ed bicker, and Ed’s smug cackle whenever he wins an argument with the prince.

She’d like to think she knows them better than most people—that they’ve grown together after Ed dragged Ling through the door with him after a research trip and fiercely declared, _“He’s not going back there,”_ while the prince spluttered and apologized and looked so genuinely lost that she couldn’t place him with the charming, elegant young man she’d met when they were all fifteen. He’d had a sharpness to him, then, a hunger—

But that day, all she’d seen was defeat. Tired eyes, slumped shoulders, worried hands. She’d seen that face in the mirror every time Ed and Al called to say they’d been injured, that something had gone wrong, that they couldn’t come home yet. She hated seeing that helplessness on anyone else.

So she’d said, _“He’s right, you’re not going back,”_ and shoved a slice of pie and a mug of cocoa into his hands before marching him over to the couch. He’d slept there that night, had moved to the guest room the second, and somewhere along the way…

Well, now he’s a part of her, and she’s a part of him, just like they’re both a part of Ed. And she honestly wouldn’t have it any other way.

Winry opens her eyes as a warm arm drops over her shoulder, a face nuzzling into her neck as a familiar body curls up against her. Blue flick over to meet deep hickory-brown, her lips curving up slightly as she sees a small, shy smile on his face. “What’s got you so snuggly?” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to his temple as he ducks his head again with a pleased-sounding sigh. “Not that I don’t love it when you act like an octopus, of course.”

Ling grumbles wordlessly into her shoulder, and she giggles, before leaning back a little as the mattress bounces, Ed flopping down on her other side. “I tackled him into a mud puddle, so now he’s grumpy at me,” he informs her, snickering when Ling peeks up over her shoulder to glare at him. “Oh, stop sulking, dummy, your shirt’s in the wash.”

“But it’s my _favorite_ shirt,” Ling sulks, even as Winry feels him smile against her shoulder. “C’mon, Win, tell him. Make him do the dishes or something, I dunno.”

“Wha—hey! It was an accident!”

“Tackled doesn’t imply it was an accident,” Winry points out, before laughing as Ling sticks his tongue out at Ed and Ed makes a face right back at him. “Alright, alright, _shush,_ both of you—” she tugs Ed down, snickering when he yelps and relishing the bright laugh Ling lets out as he ends up smushed between them. One of her arms loops up to wrap around Ed’s waist, the other still curved around Ling as her fingertips—

Her fingertips graze twisting scar tissue, and she opens her eyes, furrowing her brow in confusion. It’s reminiscent of the scars on Ed’s right shoulder and stomach, but not in the right place—and it’s on _Ling._ She ignores the soft sound of their bickering over her, gaze flicking over Ling’s bare torso. Over raised, white scars along his back in slashes and uneven rows, and marks that looks like Lichtenburg figures on his shoulders—slashes on his palms that she had assumed were callouses. Some of them she recognizes from when he’d been determined to learn to cook, nicking his fingers on kitchen knives, but the rest…they aren’t new. Not by a long shot. And there’s so _many…_

It takes her a moment to realize that Ling’s gone utterly still, glancing up to see those gorgeous brown eyes wide and wary, flicking anxiously between her and Ed—Ed, who looks equally stricken as he gazes down at Ling, at the scars. All of them, frozen and scared and just a little lost, just like they were four years ago. 

They’re nineteen, Winry thinks distantly, her mind whirling as she stares into the eyes of the two people she loves most in the world. They’re _nineteen._ Too young to have carried the weight of the world for so long, too young to have these scars. _No one_ should have these scars. They mark the strong, the survivors, but also those who suffered the most, and they—they’ve _suffered._ She knows Ed has, but Ling…

She’s only started to scratch the surface, but now’s as good a time as any to move forward. _The old Elric way, huh?_ she thinks dryly. _Keep moving forward._

“Ling,” she murmurs, moving the arm that’s tangled around Ed to stroke back inky-black bangs. He blinks at her—utterly still, utterly silent, before melting into the gentle touch, curling around her again. There’s something in him that’s so desperate for love, that cracks and melts a little bit under every bit of tenderness he’s given, and it _hurts._ It hurts, because it means no one’s given it to him before—because someone hurt one of these men she loves, and left him with a scar on his very _soul._ “Love, can you…can you tell us what happened?”

There’s nothing, for a moment—the world is silent except for the pitter-patter of the rain on the windows and their breathing, filling up the room as she _sees_ the struggle on his face— _vulnerability or silence? Do I say something nothing, or everything?_

_Do I tell them? Do I trust them? Am I safe?_

“…Assassinations,” comes the whisper a moment later, and she hears Ed suck in a sharp breath behind her. “Training. My siblings...” Ling shrugs, even as he shudders. “They’re not…not a big deal though. Not anymore.”

Something in her twists at the words, and she opens her mouth to protest—before Ed snarls, “I should have killed them last time.” Last time he was there, last time he was researching—when he’d grabbed the newly named Heir to the Throne and _run,_ unable to let him shatter there—Winry can’t help but wish she’d been there, if only to do exactly that. It’s not what she would have said _right now,_ though—because sure enough, Ling is hiding his face in her shoulder again, curling in on himself.

“When?” she asks, her voice a low murmur, fingers tangled loosely in soft, dark hair. “When did they…”

_When did they hurt you? How could they do that to you—try to_ kill _you? They don’t even know you. They don’t—_

“Started when I was five.” His voice is quiet, matter-of-fact, disturbingly calm. “I—I don’t know. You’re fair game from day one, technically, but until then it’s…it’s supposed to be painless deaths. Poison, stuff like that. Happened a few times—twelve is a pretty high number out of—out of fifty. So I was…I was a bigger target than most.” She’s sure he means to shrug, but she feels it as a shudder. “Knives started when I was five. Six was swords,” he continues softly, and she blinks, her vision blurring as tears well up in her eyes. “Someone kidnapped me for a little when I was seven, that’s the—the whip-marks. Someone got creative when I was eight…used electricity. And—oh, no, Win, don’t—” He pushes himself up a little, hands cupping her cheeks as calloused thumbs gently swipe away her tears, before he looks over at Ed, panicked. “No—come on, not you, too…”

Ed _sniffles—_ and when she glances up, there’s tears welling up in his eyes as well, his face a mask of rage and grief. “Shut up, dummy,” he chokes out, but he makes no move to swipe the tears away as he nudges her. “Win—Win, move over, I gotta—”

It clicks after a moment, and she rolls over, tugging Ling over until he’s nestled between the two of them where Ed was moments ago. Ling yelps, before staring up at them in utter bewilderment, his own eyes suspiciously glossy as he glances between them. “I don’t—I don’t need special treatment,” he protests a little desperately, his lower lip trembling slightly. “It’s _normal,_ this is—I’m used to it, they don’t hurt, they can’t hurt me anymore ‘cause you’re here—s-stop _crying,_ it’s okay—”

“It’s _not_ okay!” Winry blurts out, and she doesn’t even bother wiping at her eyes—because they _hurt him,_ one of the men she loves was hurt by his own _family_ and made to think it was okay. “It’s not okay, and—and it’s alright if you’re not okay, you big _idiot,_ you don’t have to be _strong_ all the time and pretend like they didn’t hurt you, because they did and you _didn’t deserve it!”_

Ling’s eyes widen before squeezing shut, and he shakes his head. “No, I just—it’s—it’s _normal,”_ he practically begs, staring up at them. “It was—it—”

“Just because it was normal there doesn’t mean it didn’t fucking _hurt,”_ Ed rasps. “And it doesn’t mean you’re not hurting from it. Not—not physically maybe, but…” He taps Ling’s chest with his right hand, steel and gears and wire made flesh. “Here. So stop pretending you’re okay when you aren’t, and stop pretending you’re not worthy of us or our love because—because you’re getting it either way!”

Ling lets out a small, choked noise at that, and reaches out with that same desperation that breaks Winry’s heart so much, brown eyes flicking between them as his breathing hitches. “Stop—being so _s-sappy—_ I’m gonna _cry—”_

“I cry all the time,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him against her side, Ed curling around his left until he’s squished wholly between them, wrapped up in all the love they can possibly give through touch alone. She tilts her head up to kiss his cheek, before pressing a little line of feather-light kisses along his jaw. “It’s okay, love. We’re right here.”

“Not goin’ anywhere,” Ed promises from Ling’s other side, and she sees golden eyes flash protectively as he wraps an arm around his waist, pressing a gentle kiss to the Lichtenburg scars along his shoulders. His fingers twine around his as Winry wraps her arms around his shoulders, stroking his hair soothingly. “Never gonna let you go again, idiot. S’a promise.”

_A promise._

They’re big on promises, the three of them—to save each other, to save themselves, to save their people. They’ve been the victims of broken promises before, so they’ve vowed to never break their own—and never, ever to each other.

“Never gonna let you go,” she repeats fiercely, leaning down to kiss him, tasting saline and maple syrup and citrus on his lips, as Ling clings to them like a drowning man to a lifeboat. “I promise. I _promise.”_ She grips his hand in hers, marveling at the strength and beauty of the two people before her—the people who chose her, who _love her back._ Every bit as fiercely as she loves them, like without question and without restraint.

Winry meets Ed’s eyes, gold and fierce and wet with tears, blazing with love and fury, and she nods.

_They’ll never hurt you again._

_Because we’ll kill them if they try._

Ed leans up to kiss him, and she pulls away to press her forehead to Ling’s, her arms wrapped around him—thinks of the rings she’s painstakingly forging from the remnants of Ed’s automail and a sliver of the steel from Ling’s sword, thinks of how they’ll look on their fingers, how much she _loves_ them.

She’s just human, just a mechanic—not a princess or an alchemist, not a hero or a warrior, but she’ll give everything she has for them. _Everything._

And she won’t let anyone hurt her boys _ever again._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone! I hope you enjoyed this one-shot; I may turn this into a series in the near future, so if you did, please let me know! Leave a comment and/or a kudos if you enjoyed it, and I'll see you next time <3 <3 <3


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